Granite
Feldspar and silica.
Felsic for short. Quartz.
Coarse, the grain.
Hence the name.
Under the crust,
cooling magma. Mica.
After many hours
of wandering
through the big
town, she’s tired
and cold, needs
a sit down.
The heat has
drained from
the sunny
autumn day.
Grey stone
slab like a
warm slice.
Oh! That’s nice!
Bearer of last messages
behind village churches.
Demanding. Hard to carve.
Chisels clink in a satchel.
That maddening chink.
Finely dressed. Best ashlar.
Many a town hall.
In Aberdeen, east-facing
facades that last.
And many a proud railway station
that gleams in the Sierra sunshine
there where they hold the line
against the red brick invasion.
Up and down the thriving island
new homeowners rip them out.
Tiles and floors in perfect kitchens
making way for tiles and floors.
Those were theirs; these are yours.
They lowered the stone in on a crane.
All the way from El Berrueco.
We’d sit, watching the fish.
It was hard
not to hope for hernias
when thieves stole a slab.
Glenn Hubbard
Bindweed Magazine 